When he was eventually face to face with her, he could see the desire, and desperation, reflected in her eyes. She didn’t waste a minute, pulling his head down to hers and kissing him. Will let her have her way for a moment before taking over, his tongue twining with hers. Julianne wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust her pelvis against his. He was on the verge of losing control, but he didn’t want the frenzied coupling they’d had on Sea Island. Tonight, he wanted more.

Pulling out of the kiss, he rested on his forearms and stared down at Julianne’s flushed face. She was panting beneath him, and that turned him on even more.

“Somebody’s in a hurry.” His own breathing wasn’t much better than hers.

“Well, that’s because one of us has been doing without for a long time,” she huffed. “While the other one . . . hasn’t.”

That was something he refused to feel guilty about, though. Yes, he’d been in a relationship throughout most of Julianne’s pregnancy. But had she told him about the baby, things would have been different. Obviously he thought so now, but if he was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He lowered his lips to her shoulder. “This is why we needed to talk first.”

“Yeah, probably.” A tear rolled down the side of her face.

Will erased its path with his lips. His hand caressed her belly before moving lower.

“It’s okay, Princess; I’m going to take pity on you.” He eased a finger inside her and her body clenched around it. Will sucked in a breath. “Is this what you wanted?”

She gasped. “It’ll do for right now.”

Smiling, he eased down to take possession of one of her breasts. They were fuller than he remembered and, as his mouth closed around her nipple, his body jerked in anticipation of what was to come. Julianne’s moans of pleasure were driving him wild, the rhythm of his thrusting finger meeting the cadence of her gyrating hips.

She came on a long, deep moan that nearly caused him to climax along with her. Will sank his teeth into her shoulder, then laved the tender spot with his tongue.

“Better?” Will asked when their breathing had returned to near normal.

“Mmm.” She smiled slyly before wrapping her hand around him.

Will closed his eyes at her touch. He wasn’t going to last long if she kept this up. Reaching over to his nightstand, he withdrew a condom from his wallet. Before he had it open, Julianne snatched it from his hand, pushing Will over onto his back.

“It’s my turn.” She deftly rolled the condom over his erection.

Will arched an eyebrow at her as she straddled him.

“Do your best, Princess.” He tucked his hands behind his head.

Julianne leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose, the move so unexpected it was erotic. The curtain of her hair created a sensual cocoon as she kissed his closed eyes, his jaw, and the corners of his mouth.

“Julianne,” he begged, and her tongue was suddenly in his mouth, this kiss more intimate than the last. He sucked on her lower lip and she reacted by grinding her ass against his erection.

“Julianne!” he nearly shouted.

Humming contentedly, she moved lower to gently suck on his neck. “Now who’s in a hurry?” she teased, a fingernail scoring his nipple, causing his body to buck beneath her.

That was the last straw. Will grabbed her by the hips, positioning her over the top of him, and thrust home. She was tighter than he expected, especially after having a baby. He had to catch his breath in order to slow himself down. Julianne’s sharp intake of her own breath refocused his attention.

“You okay?” he ground out.

“Oh, God, yes,” she breathed. “It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.” She rose up on her knees before slowly coming back down. “Actually, I think wonderful may be an understatement.”

Slow wasn’t going to cut it for Will. He let her have her way for a few strokes before bringing her head down for a lingering, deep kiss. Grasping her hips, he increased the pace. Julianne threw her head back, and Will was mesmerized by the sway of her breasts. He leaned up to take one in his mouth.

She moaned his name. Pressing him flat against the bed, she adjusted their angle, still meeting him thrust for thrust. Will reached a thumb between them, searching for her sweet spot. She climaxed nearly immediately, a sob escaping her throat.

He wrapped her legs around his hips and flipped them over, driving into her until she came again. Only then did he let himself follow her over the edge. The ocean churned in the darkness as they lay on the bed, their bodies tangled together. It was several minutes before they both slowly came back to earth.

“Hmm,” Julianne sighed, a glow of faint contentment spreading over her face. “That was so much better than my dreams.” She stroked his calf with the insole of her foot, reawakening his sated nerve endings.

“Not only did you remember, but you dreamed about it, huh?” Will’s flagging ego did a little touchdown dance.

He felt her smile against the bare skin on his shoulder. “It’s all coming back to me now. I seem to remember there was more.” Her husky voice had his body stirring.

“So do I. Much more.” Will bent his head and kissed her softly on her swollen lips. She opened her mouth and her arms to him, and the kiss turned fiery in seconds. Needing no more encouragement than Julianne’s heated body, he proceeded to reenact the rest of their evening on Sea Island.

Owen’s urgent cries woke them several hours later. Will traipsed down to the kitchen to make the bottle, while Julianne changed their son. They fed him sitting against the headboard of Will’s bed, her back pressed against his chest as she cradled the baby, Will’s arms wrapped protectively around them both.

Nineteen

“You’re sure you don’t want to go parasailing?” Hank asked as they boarded the ferry to Bald Head Island. It was Saturday afternoon of a holiday weekend, and Annabeth was already feeling guilty about leaving the shop. Hank had arrived an hour earlier carrying a large insulated picnic basket and wearing his devastating smile, making him hard for Annabeth to resist. Her assistant, Lynnette, had taken one look at the man and practically shoved her out the door, insisting Sophie was all the help she needed.

Annabeth was still kicking herself for agreeing to have dinner with Hank, and that was when she thought they’d be in a crowded restaurant with all the holiday beachgoers. A sunset picnic on a secluded island sounded dangerous. And romantic at the same time.

Clearly, she’d had too much wine the other night when she’d agreed to this. But Julianne’s words had been reverberating in her head, giving Annabeth a false sense of bravery. Their trek to the Patty Wagon was pleasant enough, with Sophie and Brody taking turns steering the conversation. When it was time for Annabeth to walk home, however, Brody quickly excused himself to meet a new acquaintance at Pier Pressure, Chances Inlet’s night spot, while Sophie claimed to have a program she wanted to watch on cable and disappeared into the inn. Both their exits seemed a bit contrived, but Annabeth didn’t resist Hank’s escort home.

They walked silently the first few blocks, serenaded by the crash of the surf in the distance and the chorus of tree frogs in the canopy of live oaks above them. Hank asked questions about the town and its history until they’d arrived at Annabeth’s front door. She stood there awkwardly, but Hank made no move to touch her as he had earlier that day in her shop.

“Annabeth Connelly, please have dinner with me.” He stood beneath her porch light, a moth dive-bombing his head, looking as though the fate of the world hinged on her answer. How could a woman say no to a request like that?

“Okay.”

“Are you free Saturday night?”

Lord, did this man think she actually had a social life beyond her book club and her church group? She had to admit to feeling a bit flattered. She couldn’t find the words, so she just nodded.

“Great. How about if I just pick you up from the shop?”

She nodded again.

Hank stepped away from her porch, ushering her inside, but Annabeth just stood there like a fool.

“I can’t leave until I know you’re safely inside, Annabeth.”

Right! Embarrassed, she quickly flew into the house, bolting the door behind her. As she leaned against it, she listened to Hank’s retreating footsteps down the gravel drive.

And that was how she found herself on the ferry headed for a private dinner for two.

“I have no desire to parasail,” she answered Hank. “I leave that to Will and his friends.”

He bristled beside her. “Will has a pretty extensive contract that prohibits him from parasailing for the time being, so please don’t tell me if he does.” He set the picnic basket down on the bench and leaned up against the railing.

Annabeth joined him, watching as the ferrymen untied the boat’s moorings. “Will takes his job very seriously; I doubt he’s been parasailing in ten years.”

“Annabeth, can we maybe forget that you’re Will’s mother and I’m his boss tonight? I’d prefer we just be Annabeth and Hank, two people who want to enjoy a nice dinner and get to know one another.”

The ferry pulled away from the dock, and Annabeth didn’t know whether it was the bobbing of the boat or the potent effect of the man beside her, but she needed to sit.

“Okay.” She settled on the bench, and Hank sat down beside her. “If we’re getting to know each other, tell me about your wife. Elizabeth.”

Hank paused in pulling a bottled water out of the picnic basket. “Ex-wife. Elizabeth and I haven’t been married for over ten years.”

She shook her head when he offered the bottle. “What ended the marriage?”

“Wow, now I see where Will gets it. You pull no punches.” He took a swallow of water before capping the bottle and returning it to the basket. “The usual, I guess. I wasn’t a very attentive husband, and Elizabeth needed more than I was giving her. So she found it somewhere else.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure what shocked her more, that Hank would admit to being a neglectful husband or that his wife would cheat on him.

“She cheated on you?”

Hank smiled at her incredulousness. “I wasn’t exactly faithful to her, either.”

It suddenly felt like a balloon had deflated inside Annabeth. Despite her attempts not to throw her heart into this relationship, she realized that his admission stung. A lot. She pulled her legs up on the bench, resting her chin on her knees to try to keep the disappointment from seeping into her heart.

Hank sighed. “Not in the way you’re thinking. It wasn’t another woman. Football was my mistress.” The boat picked up speed and he had to sit closer to her in order to be heard. “I played football at West Point. I knew I wouldn’t go pro—I wasn’t good enough—but that didn’t keep me from dreaming of being involved in the game somehow. After I finished my tour in the Army, we’d been married a year and Elizabeth was pregnant with Sophie; the plan was for me to go to Wharton and get my MBA. I’d join the family firm and Elizabeth and I would take up residence in Philadelphia society.”

The whipping wind kept blowing a strand of hair in Annabeth’s face, and she shoved it aside as she listened to Hank’s tale.

“A friend of mine who worked with the Philadelphia Eagles called one day and said they were looking for a scout, someone to travel to college campuses and assess the football talent. The job barely paid anything, but both Elizabeth and I are trust fund babies.” He shrugged unapologetically. “I didn’t even tell her. Or my dad. I just took the job because I desperately wanted to do something in the NFL.”

Hank hung his hands between his knees as the boat jumped across the choppy waters. “The job required a lot of travel. A lot, but I wanted to do it well, so I didn’t complain. I nearly missed Sophie’s birth and, well, it goes without saying that I missed pretty much all of her firsts.”

He glanced out over the ocean, and Annabeth glimpsed the pain in his eyes.

“If she really loved you,” she said, “she would have persevered through those years while you pursued a dream.”

“If I really loved her, I would have found a way to meld my dream and my marriage better. I would have made it work.”

His admission stirred something inside Annabeth: empathy, certainly. But jealousy, too. She wanted a man to love her enough to make something, anything, work.